


Three's a Crowd

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - FBI, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, The Orgy Armada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor, Jason, and Charlie are all second generation FBI agents.  And considering Connor and Jason are apparently both interested in Charlie, we're not sure what they're doing being friends!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeaRyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/gifts).



> Written for The Orgy Armada: The Second Coming
> 
> Prompt: Everything is scarier in Texas

The first time they met, the Neville kid got punched in the face because he called Connor a bastard. Now, his face was asking for Connor’s fist for that especially because technically Connor _was_ a bastard. Of course, there was no way Jason Neville could have known that, it’s not like Connor wore his dad’s name, going by Bennett since birth. He didn’t want anyone to know he was Sebastian Monroe’s son, even if that made him second generation FBI, and probably could’ve gotten him all sorts of perks due to good, old-fashioned nepotism.

But the point is, that wasn’t even what Jason had meant. They’d been playing cards, Connor was winning (as he usually did, because rotten luck with the ladies meant excellent luck when it came to games of chance). And then the other rookie had to go and use the “b” word, and well, then he was flat on his ass with a black eye.

Connor had no idea how they ended up friends after that.

Especially since they were officially both chasing the same piece of tail. Special Agent Charlie Matheson. And yeah, she was special all right, anyone could see that. She probably got that assignment without nepotism too, although having the same last name as the Deputy Director probably did not hurt.

Connor had known Charlie since they were in Quantico together, at first completely weirded out that they’d never met before, and then thankful for it because if they’d grown up together it might have been weird. It was weird anyways. Miles Matheson would put his lights out if he so much as touched her. His own dad would probably also punch him in the dick, come to think of it. Perhaps that’s what made her such an irresistible prospect. Or maybe it was the way her ass moved when she walked. Or just the fact that Charlie was pretty fucking all around awesome. At the end of the day, Charlie, if he was being honest with himself, was his best friend.

It was no particular surprise then that she wanted him on the case with her for this Texas job, even though he wasn’t a Special Agent himself yet, and therefore technically not authorized to conduct a criminal investigation. 

“I’m allowed to bring two people,” she said. “But we’re on a tight budget, so pick someone you don’t mind sharing a room with.”

“I don’t mind sharing a room with you,” he smirked. Charlie rolled her eyes. She’d long ago decided his advances were garbage. Maybe he needed to reconsider his game? He was a good looking guy, even by his own standards. Why did he strike out constantly?

“I’m gonna have my own room, Agent Bennett.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he saluted her. “Fine. What about Neville?”

“Jason Neville?”

“Yeah, you know him, right?” Honestly, Connor had no idea what the hell he was thinking inviting the third wheel on their Texan adventure. But whatever, everything was bigger in Texas, right? Maybe the room would be _huge_?

“You can say that.” Charlie appeared pensive.

“You two have a history neither of you decided to share with me?”

“Yeah, man, sorry I haven’t told you about every single boy I’ve ever kissed.”

“You _kissed_ him?”

“Connor!”

“Is that all you did?”

“Agent Bennett!”

“You can’t pull rank on me every time, Charlie, that’s just not fair.”

“He’s good in the field,” she said, ignoring him patently. “Yeah, let’s bring Neville.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘field,’ Special Agent Matheson?”

“I’ll email you both the briefs. See you on the plane in two hours.”

Two hours later, and blown off again, Connor was strapped to his seat for take off, the files marked ‘EYES ONLY’ on the seat next to him. Charlie was listening to something on her iPod that made her head bounce up and down in a soothing rhythm while she played Fruit Ninja on her tablet. Neville, always cool as a cucumber, was asleep with his head against the jet’s window. 

“America’s next big hope right here,” Connor muttered to himself and decided to reread the case files. At least _someone_ on the team had to give an actual, tangible damn.

The rest of the day went by in a blurr. The crime scene (assassination attempt on the governor that had taken the life of a flunkie) was untampered with, the local authorities were so cooperative you almost had to wonder if they weren’t in on it, even the staff at the hotel were overly chipper. Everything was bigger in Texas, including everyone’s hair. Also there were actual armadillos. Connor thought that was just an urban legend until he almost ran one over in their rental.

“Motherfucker!”

“Jesus, Bennett, get control of yourself,” Neville shook his head and continued playing with his phone. Texting his mommy how much he loved her, no doubt. Must be nice to have a mother, Connor scowled. He had no idea how they ended up friends.

Charlie said she was gonna hit the hay early and Connor did not question her. He knew she liked to have alone time to go over her crime scene notes. She’d probably emerge at ass o’clock the next morning, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, with the would-be assassin’s identity all sussed out. He and Neville decided to hit up the local bar scene, such as it was. Sadly, he’d forgotten to pack his cowboy hat.

“You’d look _good_ in a cowboy hat,” Neville had given him one of those grins that Connor still wasn’t sure how to interpret. His instinct was to punch first and apologize later. Probably a result of all that absent-fathering he got from Director Monroe.

“Shut your face, Neville.”

“It’s true. You got the face for it.”

“The hell does that even mean, you asshole?”

“You just have a nice face. Jesus, Bennett! Learn to take a fucking compliment.”

Connor also did not know how to do _that_ , so instead he gave Neville the stinkeye and drank his rapidly warming beer.

By the time they got back to their shared hotel room, Connor had a nice buzz going. The stifling Dallas heat probably helped. He plopped down onto the bed and immediately shot up in a realization that dawned on him in his buzzed stupor.

“Shit!”

“Did you just notice the moose head?” Neville asked from the other side of the bed.

“There’s only one bed!” he exclaimed, overcome with sudden panic. He did not do bed sharing. He was more of a wam, bam, well, you get the point. “There’s a moose head?” 

Jason, who had apparently decided to hit the minibar, motioned to a wall with one of the tiny bottles of bourbon he’d been nursing while Connor wasn’t looking.

“That’s hideous,” Connor said, his mind temporarily taken off the shared bed situation. 

“Also, this duvet is cow-print.”

“Ugh,” Connor looked down onto the duvet they were sprawled on top of. “Hey man, you shouldn’t be drinking that. We’re technically still on the job.”

“Says the man who was too drunk to notice we only had one bed?”

“Fuck you, Neville, I’m not drunk. It’s just…”

“What? Everything’s scarier in Texas?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Connor said. He knew Neville Sr., A.D. Tom Neville, to be precise, was rumored to be quite the dick himself, so clearly the apple didn’t fall far from the dick tree. “I don’t even know why I like you so much.”

“You like me?” Jason laughed. And when had Connor actually started thinking of him as Jason? Wow, he really was losing it.

“No! You’re lame! And rude! And… and… you talk too much. And you always stand too close, like, fuck, do you not have any concept of personal space?”

“Uh huh.”

“God, you’re fucking infuriating!”

“Yeah, well then why did you tell SA Matheson to bring me on this mission?” Jason asked, calmly continuing to sprawl on their (oh Lord!) bed.

“I don’t know. To get you killed?”

They both laughed, Connor laughing a bit uncomfortably because he wasn’t sure what percentage of that statement was actually true. He was friends with the guy, but he kinda did hate him, you know? Because Jason Neville had it all: powerful (and present) parents, a nice condo in Arlington, the brains and the brawn to graduate from Quantico at the top of the class, and a really great ass. 

Wait. What?

Well, anyways, you can see how someone might want to kill a guy like that, right?

“You know I like you too, right?” Jason said, putting the empty bottle down onto the corner table. “Connor?” his fingers brushed against Connor’s hand when he didn’t respond.

“Whu…?” Connor was still trying to sort his brain out and wrap it around the whole Jason having a great ass thing, to be entirely honest.

“I said I liked you.”

“Do you mean like…”

“Yeah, I mean like _like_.” Jason shifted and got off the bed. “But I can see that you’re super uncomfortable, so I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t say that. We’re cool. You know what, I’ll sleep on the floor. You take the bed.”

“But… but…” Connor’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “You like Charlie!”

“What gave you _that_ idea?”

“Well, for one thing, she said you’ve kissed her.”

“Dude, that was like… a decade ago, when we were teenagers!”

“And you’re always hanging out with her.”

 

“Wow, you really _are_ an idiot, aren’t you? I’m always hanging out with her because she’s always hanging out with you!”

“No!... Oh.” Connor felt stumped. Jason was right: he was an idiot. Why had that never occurred to him? Must’ve been his extremely macho step-dad’s influence that prized machismo above all things. “Wait… you’re serious? You’re not fucking with me?” He knew he was making puppy-dog eyes at Jason, but he didn’t even care anymore because he didn’t think things could possibly get weirder between them. 

Which was of course when Jason said, “Not yet. You’ll know when we’re fucking.”

“Now?” Connor swallowed. “Can it be now?”

“Woah, Bennett, you go from zero to sixty in way too fast,” Jason chuckled and crawled back onto the bed, his lithe body moving catlike and determined over Connor’s until their heads were almost touching. “But I am going to kiss you now.”

“Go for it, cowboy,” Connor breathed out, his lips parting before Jason mouth even alighted on his own. He shut his eyes and felt the warm, strong pressure against him, Jason’s hands brushing along his ribs. They tumbled onto the cow-print, the moose-head completely forgotten, as their mouths and tongues mapped out new pathways together. A sigh escaped Connor that quickly turned into a moan that was swallowed by Jason. Damn. The guy even kissed perfectly. How annoying. “Fuck, Jason. Is there anything you’re not good at?” Connor panted against the tanned skin of Jason’s neck as his tongue snuck out and tasted the warm skin and the trembling ligaments.

“You can let me know in a few minutes,” Jason whispered and pulled on the buttons of Connor’s shirt, pressing his long fingers into his chest and abdomen as if he’d been starving for Connor’s skin for ages. And who knows, maybe he had been.

“Is that all it’s gonna take?” Connor giggled as Jason’s lips traced along his collarbones and trailed down to brush against his nipple.

“Can’t promise anything, Agent Bennett. You got me kinda worked up. See?” He had taken Connor’s hand and pressed it against the bulge in his slacks.

“I see,” Connor breathed out. Another guy’s dick was practically in the palm of his hand. Maybe he wasn’t ready for it. 

His face must have reflected his doubts because Jason pulled off and gave him one of those looks full of kindness and understanding that was going to completely undo Connor even faster than the touch of Jason’s lips on his ravening skin.

“We don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Connor interrupted him.

“We can take it slow, you know. Let me take care of you, okay?”

God, what an asshole! Being all _nice_.

Connor swallowed again, then nodded, then reached for Jason’s waistband again to pull the other man back against him. Their bodies came together in hard planes and slotted together with a surprising amount of symmetry. And then, Connor couldn’t keep his hands off that perfect fucker, with his kiss-swollen lips, and washboard abs, and pecs that belong on old Grecian sculptures of Antinous rather than on an actual human. He was trembling with desire that threatened to consume him as Jason’s cock pressed hot and heavy into his leg even through their pants.

And then Jason’s hand was inside his fly, pulling him out, those sinfully long fingers completely undoing him as Connor fucked into Jason’s fist with growing abandon. 

“Hush, it’s okay, baby,” Jason whispered into his ear. “Wanna make you feel good. So good, baby. _Fuck_ , Connor.”

Connor moaned and pressed his lips against Jason’s again, sucking on that swollen lower lip with blatant need.

“That’s right, baby. Gonna be a good boy. Gonna come for me.”

With a broken cry, Connor did just that, Jason’s fist pumping the last of his juices out of him with practiced ease. Jason’s other arm was wrapped protectively around Connor, stroking his overheated skin through the spasms of his raw orgasm. 

“Jason,” Connor whispered, his body warm and sated, and he wrapped his arms and legs around the other agent, pulling him in, holding him as his own body still radiated pleasure from every pore. He felt Jason’s quickening breath against his neck and then felt the thrust of his hips against Connor’s own, their power bruising and delicious and holding so much promise for the next time they did this. With a guttural cry, Jason collapsed against Connor in a heap of weakened limbs. “I really hope you brought another pair of pants,” Connor breathed into his lover’s short hair.

“I bet I can fit into yours,” Jason snarked. Clearly, he wasn’t completely fucked out if he could still say terrible shit like that.

“Really, Jason? Jokes about getting into my pants? Now?”

But perhaps Connor had been wrong, because instead of another snarky reply, all he got in exchange was soft breathing against his neck. The beautiful fucker was asleep. On top of him. And come to think of it, Connor didn’t mind quite so much. Perhaps he could get used to this bed sharing thing yet. 

Yeah, definitely not the cow-print though.


End file.
